


The Game

by Babynightfury



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe - Video Game World, Best Friends, Boys Kissing, Developing Friendships, Dreams vs. Reality, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Memories, Minecraft, Romance, Romantic Friendship, Slow Burn, Stuck inside a video game
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-24 21:21:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30078498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Babynightfury/pseuds/Babynightfury
Summary: Dream is trapped inside his minecraft world when one day George joins the game. After a violent initial encounter, the pair begin a strange friendship, and together, discover the path they must take in order to free Dream from The Game.................................................................“But I want to know,” George’s voice trails out, into to a low, soft hush,“Why didn’t you kill me?”The night air presses on his shoulders, heavy with anticipation. Somehow, Dream realises the way he answers this question will change everything.Dream shrugs. “I didn’t want to.”George’s breath catches in his throat. When he answers Dream, it sounds like dark air, the kind that swirls in your lungs, building on the horizon like thunder before a storm.“ok.” He breathes.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Kudos: 9





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! this is my first fanfic so I'd love if you could leave any feedback in the comments.  
> The chapters start off quite short and a little slow, but i'm building up to some big moments, so hold onto your horses :)))  
> Will try and keep updates regular but i'm busy and also a slow writer soooo we'll see how we go.

_Create new world_   
_Game mode: Survival_   
_Create new world_

_Preparing for world generation_   
_Loading world_   
_11%_   
_24%_   
_53%_   
_86%_   
_99%_

_Georgenotfound joined the game_

……………………………………………………………

The woods are dark, enveloped by the night. The light from the campfire flickers and dances like ancient tongues, casting shadows that shroud George’s face in darkness.  
The man in the woods stills. Silence is broken only by the crackling of the fire. The pungent smell of the forest and burning wood waft gently through the air.

His heart pounds.  
It’s been a long time since anybody has joined this game.

Slowly, he creeps closer in the dark, limbs tense like an animal, alert and wary. Adrenaline surges through him and his hair stands on end, every muscle straining, primed for sudden movement.  
Heart beats.  
He shifts his weight. Suddenly the muffled sound of a twig snaps below his foot and the figure by the fire looks up. His eyes glow amber from the flames.  
The man inhales sharply through his nose, and suddenly the night air feels cold as ice. He lifts his foot gingerly, beginning to silently back away.  
George tenses, squinting in the direction of the noise. His face is clouded with confusion. The man watches as his eyebrows furrow, and George gets to his feet, but before he can reveal anything more of his presence, Dream melts into the darkness behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

Dream stands high on the mountain. The wind is cold, and it bites at his skin, leaving a shining red glow on his exposed fingers and forearms. Tufts of blonde hair ripple around his head.  
He stares down the steep cliffside, surveying the wide, dark forest below him, and beyond that, the rolling grasslands. A silver river snakes off into the distance.  
There was a stranger here. A new player, in the game.  
Dream chews his lip, deep in thought.  
Why is he here?  
Why is he here, in Dream’s game?  
……………………………………………………………

That night, Dream returns to the clearing in the woods. Silently, he creeps through the darkness, following hidden paths through the forest like trails of ashes, secrets burnt long ago into his memory.  
Until he comes upon the place.  
But something is wrong. The clearing is dark, and quiet. The remains of George’s campfire are unlit, a cool breeze gently stirs the ashes in the dust.  
Dream sniffs the air, without any real intention. It smells of musty leaves, the smell of smoke from the previous night long gone, faded into the wind.  
He scans the clearing, looking for some sign, or clue. Fallen leaves disguise faded footprints, barely visible in the dirt, but to Dream they shine like burning embers, marking the direction in which George travelled.  
Dream sets off into the darkness.


	3. Traces of the past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George finds an old ruin.

A thousand blocks away, George bounds through rolling plains, tall grass swishing as he passes. Although he has been travelling for hours, exhaustion is yet to hit him and the deep thrill of exploring a new world carries him onwards in excitement.

The sun is high and the sky is blue and cloudless, but George is cooled by the breeze that ruffles his dark hair. In the distance he sees another forest, of tall, spindly white trees. Their autumn leaves dance in the wind and he can just make out the sound of far-off birdsong.

When he first reaches the woods, sunlight pours through the golden leaves, and the air is crisp and bright. But as George progresses further, the darkness begins to creep in. The air feels dense and humid and the crunchy leaf litter is replaced by ivy and sphagnum moss. He hears faint sounds of trickling water in the distance.  
George carefully traces the ancient trails left by centuries of forest creatures moving through the woods. He navigates thick undergrowth, scales rocky outcrops and steep gullies, and scrambles over huge fallen trees, wider than he is tall. Finally, the forest appears to thin, and the sunlight begins to leak slowly through the trees once more.  
As George approaches the edge of a clearing, he looks up, and is momentarily blinded by the sudden bright light. He hesitates, blinking furiously to clear his eyes of the dark spots that blur his vision. When the shadows finally fade, George looks up, and stops dead in his tracks.

Just visible beyond the edge of the clearing is a structure, long since abandoned, tendrils of ivy entwined in its exposed bones.  
It would not be unreasonable to assume, at first glance, that here lies a skeleton of some huge, ancient creature. The stones are like bleached, white ribs, angled sharply towards the sky. Delicate ferns sprout from its base and tiny wildflowers trace the crumbled stone limbs. Yet there is no mistaking it – this was once a home.  
George approaches slowly, footsteps muffled by the mossy floor. The river rushes more loudly now. It must be close. A bird trills nearby and leaves rustle in the gentle breeze. The glade is peaceful with the sounds of the forest. Yet George feels awfully quiet.

His eyes wander slowly, following the lines of crumbled columns, imagining the shapes of curved archways where the stone once held steady.  
He wonders how it became like this.  
A storm perhaps? Or a gradual erosion, the wind and the rain drumming away until it could take no more.  
Something inside him swells, and suddenly George is overtaken by a strange feeling of loss.

It’s strange how normal this place is. The forest does not still, the forest does not silence, and the world seems to carry on without him.  
His eyes roam around the old structure, noticing the way the moss clings to the ruined stone footings, and the tendrils of ivy that weave like old tales.  
He feels as if this place holds secrets that the forest is keeping from him. Secrets, erased by time, like stone dissolved into dust.  
But its skeleton remains, the structure still visible, a trace from the past still lingering. Bleached white bones, shimmering in the sunlight - revealing themselves, hoping, wishing to be found by the right person, laid bare for all to see but not all to know.  
Visible in plain sight, but, as of yet, unreadable.

George lifts his eyes and sees a bird’s nest perched high in the crumbling structure; this old body giving new life to the forest. How strange, and how beautiful.  
George is entranced. Never before has he entered a place like this, a place so forgotten and lonely and illuminated with echoes of the past. He feels it must be haunted by angels.  
That night, George sleeps beneath the stars, his body curled amongst the ruined bones like an old friend.


	4. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George sees something in the woods.

The next morning, George wakes to dawn light and the gentle sound of birdsong. He rises slowly, blinking sleep from his eyes and allowing the memories of the previous day to wash over him. Though George imagined this place had more to show him, he finds that for a second time, he is overtaken by awe at its unimaginable beauty.

The old ruins glow with the soft, early morning light. Webs of silver drape between stone columns, their intricate patterns illuminated with shining dew droplets. The slimy paths of slugs and snails leave trails that sparkle like silver water.

George wakes slowly and wanders the clearing, eventually beginning to make his way towards the source of running water. Down at the base of the hill, he finds it – a narrow creek winding through the tall trees, glinting in places where the dappled sunlight pierces the canopy.

George stops when he reaches the river, and carefully removes his shoes, tossing his leather satchel to the side. He steps with bare feet onto the carpet of moss. It feels soft and springy and creeps through the cracks between his toes. Slowly, he lowers his feet into the water, fresh and cool on sweat-stained skin. George sinks to the ground until he is perched on the edge of the riverbank, ankle-deep in the stream.  
He watches for a moment as the flowing water ripples against his skin and tiny clouds of misty spray dissolve into the air. George cups his hands and bends forward to scoop the clear water. The current washes over his hands and as he raises them to his mouth, drips form like molten metal, leaving a gentle trace on his pink lips.

Suddenly, a strange, instinctual drive pulls his eyes from the water. An uneasy feeling creeps into the back of his throat and seems to jolt him back to reality.

George looks up, spinning silently to face the line of trees behind him. Somehow the bright morning has become tinged with an unforeseen apprehension. There was no reason but an unspoken feeling in his gut that told him somebody was watching him.  
Tension crawls into his body as George swings his head, eyes strained, scanning the surrounding forest. He can feel his heartbeat, rabbit-like in his chest, and he wills some sort of movement to confirm or deny his suspicions. And as he squints hard, peering into the depths of the forest, he almost misses it.  
For a second, his eyes widen, and he inhales sharply.  
It could have been nothing – perhaps a stray ray of sunlight, glinting through the trees and distracting his attention for the briefest of seconds. The movement of air, a shadow. The forest playing tricks on him.

But, for a brief moment, George could have sworn he saw a flash of white.

George stares, eyes frozen in place, ears strained to catch the noise of a twig snapping or leaves crunching. The forest echoes with faint, indistinctive rustles.  
Finally, he blinks, and shakes his head.

_Don’t be stupid. It was just a trick of the light._

Once his stomach had settled enough and George was content to accept his own reassurances, he takes a deep breath and feels his muscles loosen. Shrugging off the tension in his limbs, George busies himself, kneeling at the bank to collect fresh water in preparation for his journey. Finally, he rises to his feet, collects his satchel, and, with one last backwards glance, melts into the woods.

Although George carries himself onwards with relative ease, he travels with care that day, taking his time and making sure to stop and rest at any occasion he feels necessary. An odd disturbance seems to settle like mist over the forest, and his mind can’t help but wander for a moment, here and there, his thoughts occasionally returning to the strange occurrence by the river that morning. His growing distrust of the forest pervades his mind, and he can’t quite shake the lingering thought that whatever he saw – that flash of light moving in the bushes, somebody, some thing – was watching him.  
……………………………………………………………

The next day, Dream wakes before the sun, and cooks his breakfast of mushroom stew on a dwindling fire. He inhales his meal and rushes to stamp out the remains of the dying flames, before setting off once more.  
The bright, airy forest of yesterday slowly gives way to dark pine trees and thickets of scrub. The golden afternoon light piercing through the trees fades with the setting sun, as the hush of gathering darkness begins to creep in.  
The sun has nearly slipped from the sky when his stomach gives a sudden grumble, and Dream stops and looks down at himself, surprised. he has forgotten that he has been silently following George all day, and has not eaten since dawn. Dream’s eyes trace George’s outline as he continues to trot onwards into the forest, and it takes every effort for him to finally, tear his eyes away from the place where his body fades into the darkness.

That night, George hears strange echoes in the forest. Moaning and creaking noises around him, and wolves, howling in the distance. He looks at the sky and sees no stars.


End file.
